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navigators had said it would be when they emerged from foldspace. He stood
beside a watchful Streggi seeing this in displays of his flagship's command bay.
Streggi did not like it that he stood on his own feet instead of riding her
shoulders. She felt superfluous amidst military hardware. Her gaze kept going
to the multi-projection fields at command bay center. Aides moving efficiently
in and out of pods and fields, bodies draped with esoteric hardware, knew what
they were doing. She had only the vaguest idea of these functions.
The comboard to relay Teg's orders lay under his palms, riding there on
suspensors. Its command field formed a faint blue glow around his hands. The
silvery horseshoe linking him to the attack force rested lightly on his
shoulders, feeling familiar there in spite of being much larger relative to his
small body than comlinks of his previous lifetime.
None of those around him any longer questioned that this was their famous Bashar
in a child's body. They took his orders with brisk acceptance.
The target system looked ordinary from this distance: a sun and its captive
planets. But Gammu in center focus was not ordinary. Idaho had been born
there, his ghola trained there, his original memories restored there.
And I was changed there.
Teg had no explanation for what he had found in himself under the stresses of
survival on Gammu. Physical speed that drained his flesh and an ability to see
no-ships, to locate them in an image field like a block of space reproduced in
his mind.
He suspected a wild outcropping in Atreides genes. Marker cells had been
identified in him but not their purpose. It was the heritage Bene Gesserit
Breeding Mistresses had meddled with for eons. There was little doubt they
would view this ability as something potentially dangerous to them. They might
use it but he would certainly lose his freedom.
He put these reflections out of his mind.
"Send in the decoys."
Action!
Teg felt himself assume a familiar stance. There was a sense of climbing onto a
refreshing eminence when planning ended. Theories had been articulated,
alternatives carefully worked out, and subordinates deployed, all thoroughly
briefed. His key squad leaders had committed Gammu to memory -- where partisan
help might be available, every bolt hole, every known strongpoint and which
access routes were most vulnerable. He had warned them especially about Futars.
The possibility that humanoid beasts might be allies could not be overlooked.
Rebels who had helped ghola-Idaho escape from Gammu had insisted Futars were
created to hunt and kill Honored Matres. Knowing the accounts of Dortujla and
others, you could almost pity Honored Matres if this were true, except that no
pity could be spared for those who never showed it to others.
The attack was taking its designed shape -- scout ships laying down a decoy
barrage and heavy carriers moving into strike position. Teg became now what he
thought of as "the instrument of my instruments." It was difficult to determine
which commanded and which responded.
Now, the delicate part.
Unknowns were to be feared. A good commander kept that firmly in mind. There
were always unknowns.
Decoys were nearing the defensive perimeter. He saw enemy no-ships and
foldspace sensors -- bright dots arrayed through his awareness. Teg
superimposed this onto the positions of his force. Every order he gave must
appear to originate from a battle-plot they all shared.
He felt thankful Murbella had not joined him. Any Reverend Mother might see
through his deception. But no one had questioned Odrade's order that Murbella
wait with her party at a safe distance.
"Potential Mother Superior. Guard this one well."
Explosive demolition of decoys began with a random display of brilliant flashes
around the planet. He leaned forward, staring at projections.
"There's the pattern!"
There was no such pattern but his words created belief and pulses quickened. No
one questioned that the Bashar had seen vulnerability in the defenses. His
hands flashed over the comboard, sending his ships forward in a blazing display
that littered space behind them with enemy fragments.
"All right! Let's go!"
He fed the flagship's course directly into Navigation, then turned full
attention to Fire Control. Silent explosions dotted space around them as the
flagship mopped up surviving elements of Gammu's perimeter guardians.
"More decoys!" he ordered.
Globes of white light blinked in the projection fields.
Attention in the command bay concentrated on the fields, not on their Bashar.
The unexpected! Teg, justly famous for that, was confirming his reputation.
"I find this oddly romantic," Streggi said.
Romantic? No romance in this! The time for romance was past and yet to come.
A certain aura might surround plans for violence. He accepted that. Historians
created their own brand of drama-cum-romance. But now? This was adrenaline
time! Romance distracted you from necessities. You had to be cold inside, a
clear and unimpaired line between mind and body.
As his hands moved in the comboard's field, Teg realized what had driven Streggi
to speak. Something primitive about the death and destruction being created
here. This was a moment cut out of normal order. A disturbing return to
ancient tribal patterns.
She sensed a tom-tom in her breast and voices chanting: "Kill! Kill! Kill!"
His vision of guardian no-ships showed survivors fleeing in panic.
Good! Panic has a way of spreading and weakening your enemies.
"There's Barony."
Idaho had converted him to the old Harkonnen name for the sprawling city with
its giant black centerpiece of plasteel.
"We'll land on the Flat to the north."
He spoke the words but his hands gave the orders.
Quickly now!
For brief moments when they disgorged troops, no-ships were visible and
vulnerable. He held elements of the entire force responsive to his comboard and
responsibility was heavy.
"This is only a feint. We go in and out after inflicting serious damage.
Junction is our real target."
Odrade's parting admonition lay there in memory. "Honored Matres must be taught
a lesson such as never before. Attack us and you get hurt badly. Press us and
the pain can be enormous. They've heard about Bene Gesserit punishments. We're
notorious. No doubt Spider Queen sniggered a bit. You must shove that snigger
down her throat!"
"Quit ship!"
This was the vulnerable moment. Space above them remained empty of threat but
fire lances arced inward from the east. His gunners could handle those. He
concentrated on the possibility that enemy no-ships might return for a suicide
attack. Command bay projections showed his hammerships and troop carriers
pouring from the holds. The shock force, an armored elite on suspensors,
already had the perimeter secured.
There went the portable comeyes to spread his field of observation and relay the
intimate details of violence. Communication, the key to responsive command, but
it also displayed bloody destruction.
"All clear!"
The signal rang through the bay. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]